


53 kisses

by Ragingstillness



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Very long, and I will update super slow that is a guarantee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 08:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11158293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragingstillness/pseuds/Ragingstillness
Summary: 53 different types of kiss prompts





	1. Hand Kisses

    Jack kept a tight but gentle grip on her elbow as he dragged her into her home. 

    “You were wearing a giant coat! Just ball that up and hit the window through it!” 

    Phryne huffed, stumbling in her heels to keep up. 

    “It was a split-second decision, Jack.” 

    He rounded on her as they reached the kitchen. 

    “To punch through a window bare-handed?” 

    She winced. 

    “Of course in hindsight it seems like a bad idea.” 

    Jack nodded vigorously. 

    “Uh huh? No kidding Phryne. You’re lucky to get away with this little damage.” 

    He lifted her bloodied hand. Phryne ignored him. 

    “Mr. B?” She called. 

    The psychic butler appeared. His eyes widened at his mistress’s obvious distress. 

    “However did this happen, Ma’am?” 

    Jack answered for her. 

    “We needed a hiding place from a suspect and she thought punching through a window was quicker than picking a lock.” 

    Phryne scrunched up her face. 

    “Well,” she paused briefly. “Normally the latter would be faster, but we were in a bind.” 

    Jack sighed in much the same way he’d been sighing for the past few minutes. 

    “If we could have a first aid kit I’ll clean Miss Fisher up before taking her to the hospital.” 

    “I don’t need a hospital!” 

    “Before taking her to a hospital,” Jack repeated firmly. 

    Mr. Butler vanished for a moment into a backroom, returning with a square metal box and a handkerchief. The latter of which he laid atop the kitchen table. Jack set Phryne’s hand atop it, nodding his thanks. 

    He removed a couple of cotton swabs and alcohol from the kit then poured the liquid over the deeper cuts. Phryne hissed but Jack found it difficult to work up sympathy for what she had done to herself. The worry didn’t fade though. 

    Once the excess blood had been cleared off and the wounds cleaned, Jack dabbed at them with the swabs, clearing anything he’d missed. Moving quickly before the blood could well up again, he removed the roll of cotton bandages from the box. 

    He chanced a look at Phryne’s face. There was self-chastisement there, and annoyance, but also a generous measure of pain. Then the sympathy came. Several of the cuts were decently long while none were deep. She wouldn’t be able to use the hand painlessly for a couple of days. 

    His feelings guiding his actions, Jack slid his hand under hers, propping it up. He used his thumb to hold down the edge of the bandage then deftly curled it over her hand. Around and around the roll went, and they didn’t speak. Jack cut it off at the point where it appeared he had applied a fuzzy white mitten. 

    He carefully plucked up one of the outer loops and tucked the end under it. Phryne’s hand twitched in his and he met her gaze. Her cerulean eyes had gone tender and she was smiling, probably in spite of herself. 

    So instead of using his free hand to tighten the knot of the bandage, he leaned forward, took the free end in his teeth and pulled it taught, maintaining eye contact. He was rewarded with a small hitch in her breath. 

    Jack figured while he was at it, he might as well go all the way, and removed his teeth from the cotton to press his lips against the back of her hand. 

    He flitted over her hand, pecking the ends of each finger, then finally laying a kiss in the soft center of her palm. He closed his eyes to better take in the sensation. 

    There was a soft pressure against the side of his face. Jack dared to open his eyes. Phryne’s uninjured hand lay against his cheek.

   As he looked at her, dumbfounded, she stroked her thumb over his skin. 

    “Thank you, Jack.” He just nodded. The chance to lavish her with care was all the gratitude he needed. 


	2. Cheek Kisses

    The morning of Jack’s fifth week in a committed relationship dawned bright and happy. He snuck out of his lover’s complaining arms to get breakfast, flicking her nose and reminding her that some of them had to work for a living. To which she grumbled that she did work for a living, and didn’t keep insane hours the way he did. 

    His breakfast was amazing, as it always was. Jack lounged at the kitchen table, reading the paper and wondering how much trouble he’d been in for crawling back to Phryne for a couple more hours. But his sense of logic overwhelmed his romantic desires. It did so less often these days. 

    Nevertheless, Jack left the paper on the table and collected his overcoat and hat, meaning to leave for work. Then he heard soft footsteps on the stairs and the very object of his thoughts scampered into the room, hissing as her bare feet hit the kitchen tile. 

    She hadn’t bothered to dress in more than a silk gown, and normally wasn’t up this early at all. 

    Jack set his hat back down, watching her pad into the kitchen, collect a piece of toast by the sound of it, and cross to her parlor. Her bleary eyes settled on his figure by the door and reluctantly focused. She said nothing, but her gaze swept over his attire. She yawned, covering her mouth delicately with a hand as she advanced on him. 

    Jack braced himself for everything up to and including a suggestion to join him at work in her current outfit. But he was still taken aback when Phryne leaned up on her tiptoes, planted a small kiss on his cheek and retreated, muttering “have fun at the station, darling.” 

    Jack froze. The uncharacteristic endearment danced through his head and he stared after her. Phryne herself seemed to realize what she’d done a few steps later, stopping short in her tracks, one foot partially in the air. 

    Her shoulders tensed and Jack felt the urge to burst out laughing. The tips of her ears were bright red, a perfect match to her cheeks when she glanced back at him. 

    His amusement must have shown on his face because she held up a cautionary finger. 

    “Don’t say a word. Don’t you say a word, Jack Robinson.” 

    He sucked his lips into his mouth to keep from snickering and moved unceremoniously to the door. Oddly enough, Jack’s heart felt like bursting out of his chest the whole day and Hugh even asked why he was smiling so much.

 


	3. Nose Kisses

    It only seemed right to revisit all their old date spots. They hadn’t known those times were dates, of course, but that just made the memories better. 

    On this particular carnival visit they took _several_ turns on the Great Scenic Railroad, which, to their delight, had returned another year, then stopped for food. Their heads were still spinning from adrenaline and that strange stomach dropping feeling one got when the carriages slid down a hill. 

    The haphazard meal was great but the cool taste of ice cream afterwards made the summer day perfect. Phryne went at hers like a kitten with a milk bowl; using little licks to savor it. Jack pointed out that it’d melt at the same speed but she ignored him. 

    His approach had a little less finesse, mainly comprised of large licks on the sides as he turned it, preventing even a drop from slipping over his fingers. 

    Once the swirl had been combed into a point he took one big bite from the top. Phryne winced, sure that would cause an awful headache. But Jack escaped unharmed, aside from a small dollop of ice cream that remained on the tip of his nose. 

    Phryne gestured to it and he raised an eyebrow. She huffed, enchanted with his confusion. Instead of using a napkin, like anyone other than Phryne Fisher would have, she leaned carefully over the table and kissed the tip of his nose, picking up the vanilla flavored cream with the end of her tongue. 

    Jack jolted a little. But then an adorable flush crept across the tops of his cheeks. Phryne’s smile grew as it traveled up the tips of his ears. 

    “Thank you for the assist,” he finally vocalized. 

    “Of course. As your partner, I have to make sure we’re both in tip top shape.” 

    Jack chuckled. 

    “And how would we solve mysteries without your careful attentions?” 

    Phryne just rolled her eyes.

**Bonus!!!! Because you’ve all been so supportive I have a treat for you!**

    Sunlight flitted through the room, slats of light landing gently atop two large gilded candlesticks with partially melted cream candles in them. The candles sat atop a burgundy dresser set against the wall with the large bay windows, through which the sunlight was coming. 

    As the sun continued to rise, its light reached further into the room. The yellow glow made contact with several other objects in the room as if determined to set the scene before its now unavoidable light fell upon the bed in the center of the room. The props chosen were two small diamond earrings, set in gold, and laying on the bedside table; the clasp atop a large suitcase in the far corner, bulging with possessions; and a shimmery champagne dress, crumpled in a heap against the foot of the bed. 

    The larger beams of light illuminated white sheets, then smoothed over the two content bodies lying in the bed. The outline was difficult to make out but it appeared the figures had entwined their legs in their sleep, flung arms over waists, and curled fists against chests. 

    The dark haired figure was disturbed from where her head was tucked perfectly into the curve underneath the chin of the other. She sat up, heedless of her advanced state of undress, and stretched her arms up and over her head, letting out a soft yawn. She gently extracted her legs from her partner’s, curling them up underneath her, so as to better observe the beautiful man beside her, who had never failed to follow through on a promise, or shirk the demands of a romantic overture. 

    She was struck with a feeling of belonging, not for herself, but for him. He was always meant to be here, in between her sheets, snuffling softly and pressing his face into the curve of her hip so as to hide from the light. 

    She stroked over his shoulder, shaking lightly. 

    “Wake up,” she whispered. 

    His eyelashes fluttered, then withdrew, over a shade of brilliant blue made only more so by both the sunlight and the events of the night before. He attempted to press up on his arm, headed for her lips. But that arm had rested under her body for much too long and gave out underneath him. His uncoordinated movement led to his lips landing for a brief moment on her nose before he sank back into the sheets. 

    She scrunched up the kissed feature, raising a hand to rub at it with her hand. A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes. 

    “Ticklish?” He asked. 

    She nodded. 

    He grinned and pushed up with more control this time, purposely aiming for her nose. She wasn’t quick enough to stop him and had to leap back with a little shriek, rubbing at it again. She almost fell off the bed, but his far arm swept around her back, changing the direction of her fall so they both collapsed back onto the mattress. 

    He took full advantage of her position partially beneath him and tormented her, raining kisses over her entire visage, hoping she’d be so busy attending to her other open spots, that she’d leave his target open. She squeaked under his assault, her hands flailing. Peeking through her fingers, she saw his grin, and tried not to laugh. 

    But soon she was quaking from more than just the ticklish sensation, covering her eyes with her hands. She didn’t see how large and loving his smile became. 

     He gave up the fight as she succumbed to her fit of amusement, settling his head atop her collarbones but easing most of his weight off her. When she finally recovered enough to glance at him, his expression took her breath away. Tears of something other than hilarity glittered in her eyes, and in a swift motion, she wrapped him in a full body hug, her ankles digging into his back, and arms clasping him to her chest. In all of her extensive memory, she’d never had such a perfect morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok Phryne’s knowledge that eating too much ice cream causes headaches is a bit of an anachronism as the term ice cream headache was first used in 1937 but the general ailment shouldn’t be too much. 
> 
> The bonus is a paraphrase of my tumblr post about how the Miss Fisher movie should start.
> 
> As I said earlier, the bonus exists because I got such a wonderful response to the first two chapters of this story and I am just so thankful to everyone in this fandom, especially the experienced writers, for welcoming my attempts with open arms. 
> 
> I'm going to do something new for anyone who reads my stories in any fandom, telling my readers what music I listen to when writing. For this chapter, the first part was written to Flatliner by Cole Swindell and the bonus was written to It Ain’t Me by Selena Gomez. 
> 
> Happy Father's Day to my dad, who is always there for me, and reads my fanfic without judgement! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ragingstillness
> 
> Coming up next: Forehead Kisses


	4. Forehead Kisses

_Fwip_. About a minute and a half passed then she heard it again. _Fwip_. Phryne cautiously opened her eyes, wriggling under the quilt that must have been laid upon her at some point. It provided just the right amount of warmth, and was long enough to cover her eternally freezing toes. But the heat source underneath her was even more heavenly and vividly familiar. 

    “How was your nap, Miss Fisher?” 

    Phryne turned her head slightly, absentminded strands of her hair tickling Jack’s collarbones. As was his wont when quite comfortable, he had removed his suit jack and waistcoat hours ago, even daring to unbutton the first couple buttons of his undershirt. 

    “It-” Phryne’s voice was raspy with sleep. She cleared her throat and tried again. “It was very nice.” 

    His laugh rumbled through her body and she tried to surreptitiously nestle herself deeper in the warm circle created by his arms. 

    “Any dreams?” 

    “Only good ones.” 

    She laid her head back on his chest, and saw in her periphery the source of the noise that had awoken her. A book, small and well-worn, hanging lazily in Jack’s right hand, his thumb marking the page he’d stopped on. She squinted at the title. Antony and Cleopatra. Phryne laughed, a short huff of a noise. Hopeless romantic, he was. Then the reasoning behind their current position returned to her. 

    “What time is it?” 

    Jack’s book-free hand stroked up and down her arm, beneath the blanket. 

    “You still have two hours before your Aunt’s luncheon. As high as her standards are, that still should be more than enough time.” 

    Phryne nodded slowly to herself, knowing he could feel it. 

    This luncheon could not have been scheduling at a more inconvenient time. Phryne’d been running around on a case for weeks, Jack too busy with one of his own to provide her with just that little facet of insight she needed to solve it. 

    Fate being as it was, their equally frustrating cases turned out to be connected, and once their goal was united, the situation was resolved in mere hours. Phryne had not, under any circumstances, considered how that reflected on the nature of their partnership, and certainly hadn’t wasted several quiet minutes of their evening nightcap just staring at her partner like a lovestruck schoolgirl. 

    In her defense, she had been quite sleep deprived at the time. 

    They were both often guilty of disregarding basic human needs in order to get a case solved but not only was Jack slightly better at conquering this impulse, but his case had only come to City South’s attention within the last week. So while he was tired by the finale, Phryne was running on fumes. 

    Jack had noticed this, and, in the most reluctant manner she could rustle up, Phryne had submitted to his pampering, which came in the form of a warm bath and a warm body to sleep through the night with. 

    However, she had been rather rudely pulled out of her beauty sleep by the call that delineated the invitation to the aforementioned luncheon, and hadn’t the chance to fully recover. She was still woozy all throughout breakfast, and when kind, dependable, _predictable_ Jack had taken to the chaise for his mid-afternoon reading session, he was receptive to her request to nap on him, and undoubtably had requested one of her staff bring the blanket. It was all rather sweet of him and made her heart warm in the most unusual and almost troubling way. 

    These few hours she had just snatched had much rejuvenated her, although, she reflected, no amount of sleep could truly prepare one for a luncheon with her aunt. And while Jack’s estimate of her preparation time was decent, it was not entirely accurate. Two hours was really _just_ enough time to get ready. 

    She would have to get up. But, cried the traitorous part of her brain, undoubtably in cahoots with her equally traitorous heart, Jack was so warm, and comfortable, and the blanket was so soft, and why couldn’t she bear being just a little late or disheveled to this luncheon?…ooh, maybe she could just ditch it all together. 

    But practicality called, and she removed herself, with the utmost frustration, from Jack’s embrace, sweeping up the staircase to her bedroom. 

    An hour and a half later she swept back downstairs, and was unsurprised to find her lover still reading on the chaise, although he seemed close to sleep himself at this point. 

    She spared a moment to prance over towards him, and as most of his face was sinking into the slumber of the truly exhausted, planted her goodbye kiss on his forehead. 

    She paused briefly to admire her own handiwork. Yes. There it was. A beautiful man in repose, with the scarlet imprint of his lover’s lips crowning his intelligent head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a ton of ideas for this chapter but even since pretty much the first time I watched the pilot, I have been waiting for people other than Dot to get the Phryne Fisher Lipstick Forehead Kiss. And yet it never returned and I was left abandoned and heartbroken to fic writing, as you are. 
> 
> Also thank you so much for the warm response I got on my last chapter and especially to OllyJay for caring about my dad. He was very touched. 
> 
> You can thank my mother, my dog, and a bag of pretzel crisps for the reason this chapter was written when it was, as the complicated combination of all three have led to me breaking my toe. I can’t really move a ton and that puts me in the mood for writing. No dogs or mothers were harmed in the incident nor do I blame them. It was entirely my clumsy fault. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter. Coming up next: Neck Kisses.


	5. Neck Kisses

“Miss Fisher…”

“Yes Jack?”

“Why is it, that whenever we’re in a brothel together we end up in a rather compromising position?”

“Why? Jack, it’s the energy of the place.”

Jack scoffed quietly. “Don’t be silly, Miss Fisher, there’s no such thing as energy or aura. Places are just places. And you would be well suited to remember that yours is slightly to the left of the hand you’re sitting on.”

Phryne stood up as best she could in the small closet and turned around, situating herself with her back to Jack’s chest, thereby avoiding his hand where it was laid atop a wooden box of cleaning supplies. This only made Jack’s breath catch further in his chest and he desperately slowed his inhales in an attempt to keep quiet.

Phryne tried to cross her legs in the small area, pressing even tighter against Jack, but found there was no space and settled for sitting primly with them before her. Jack was thankful for the relative darkness of their hiding space to hide his blush.

She’d deny it but, Phryne liked to be soft. Hard on the inside, soft on the outside, like a chocolate covered almond.

Tonight, hidden in a brothel closet trying to catch a thief, she had snuck in wearing a silk shawl over a beaded dress. Jack’s eyes had been unable to avoid the length of lower leg displayed by the dress when he first saw her, but he had redirected Phryne’s attention with a comment about her impractical heels. He suspected he hadn’t been very successful.

The sensation of the silk rippling against the hollow of his throat inspired such a powerful urge to wrap his arms around Phryne’s waist that Jack shifted and sat on his hands, negating the comfort from Phryne’s shift in position in the first place.

A click from the door to the bedroom had both of the detectives raising their heads. Phryne stood up as much as she could in the small space and peered through the slit in the closet door. The slit wasn’t large enough for them both to look so Jack studied the flutter of Phryne’s long eyelashes against her cheeks. She wasn’t blinking much, so at least what she was seeing was interesting. Then suddenly her eyes widened.

Jack went to stand, and his leg bumped into the back of Phryne’s, shoving her feet out from under her. In that split-second Jack processed that Phryne was going to fall and they were going to make a ridiculous amount of noise doing it. He had limited options to prevent that eventuality.

It was for the case, he reminded himself. It was for the case that he wrapped both arms around Phryne’s waist, for the case that he sat down hard and practically pulled her into his lap, for the case that he bent his head and buried his face in her neck.

Jack waited, and the clattering in the room outside continued, undisturbed by their almost disaster. He breathed out. The skin beneath his forehead shivered and it was then Jack awoke to the reality of the situation.

He took a short breath in as a precursor to moving backwards but inhaled a whiff of Phryne’s perfume instead and found himself unable to pull away. It was flowery but still spiced for their late-night crime-fighting excursion, and something inside Jack smiled to notice how aptly Phryne had chosen her accouterments.

“Jack,” came a hissed whisper.

He raised his head, the bump of his chin dragging up Phryne’s neck. “What did you see?”

She shivered again in his arms. He felt how tight he was holding her thin shape and pulled back, setting his hands more appropriately on her waist.

“There’s a man rummaging through the dresser drawers. He’s getting frustrated, not finding the gold chain he’s looking for.”

“How do you know he’s looking for a gold chain?”

“He’s a thief Jack, not a man with a grudge. He’s here for the valuables. Look at his clothes, a man of those means would have to work a year to pay for a madam and he has a wife at home.”

Jack caught the twinkle in Phryne’s eye and had a sinking suspicion. “And where exactly is the gold chain he’s looking for?” Phryne’s hand reached up towards her cleavage and Jack turned his head harshly away. “Ah, no, I don’t need to see the evidence of your lawbreaking. At least you’ve stolen it before him.”

Phryne laughed. “I was going to put it back!”

Jack chuckled, a soft huff of breath against Phryne’s neck again. Jack didn’t want to, but his heart warmed by the goosebumps he could feel on Phryne’s skin and the shudder of her waist.

“Can you see from here?” Phryne nodded. “Is he close to us?” Phryne shook her head. “Why aren’t you speaking?”

“No reason, Jack.” Phryne’s voice was a little higher and thinner than normal.

Jack decided to let her off the hook. If they were going to plumb the depths of the mutual attraction that had been building between them for longer than Jack could remember, it wasn’t going to be here, in a small closet, on the second floor of a brothel, with a thief on the other side of the door. Not that it wouldn’t suit them.

“What’s he doing now?”

“I think he’s given up. He’s pacing the room, rubbing his chin.”

“Do you have your gun?”

“Jack~”

Jack snorted. “Alright, then tell me when he’s facing away from us, and we’ll bring him in to the station.”

“You’ll let me lead the charge?”

“Of course, Phryne.” Jack heard her breath catch in her throat.

“Jack?” Phryne’s voice was tremulous, hopeful, and afraid.

“Shh.” He leaned down a bit and dropped a quick kiss to her neck. “Tell me when he turns away. We’ll take him in. We’ll talk.”

Phryne nodded. They waited, frozen, for a few seconds.

“Now,” Phryne whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the photoset that’s going around talking about how Jack and Phryne had each to adjust to the concept of being with each other before they took any solid steps. I’m so grateful to everyone who has stuck with me this long. Next up: Shoulder Kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a cute thing I thought I'd do. I've never done a prompts list before so this should be fun.


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